Dreaming Demon
by The Skeptical Puck
Summary: Harry is a little more than meets the eye. Inspired by Jeff Lindsay's Dexter Morgan


The laughing, licentious full moon hung overhead, resonating with black temptation, and my Dark Passenger chuckled quietly in appreciation. The Need was growing, pulsing over me in waves of anticipation. The adrenaline rush heightened senses, the blur of the night clearing, as I shed the skin of Hapless Hero Harry and awoke the predator within.

Through the forest I went as a tiger softly stalking, footfalls padded by foliage underfoot. I always felt more alive in the forest, a kinship with its forbidden denizens, monster calling to monster. In the past when the gentle thrum of the full moon overhead would echo with my mental tenant I would hunt here, but not tonight. I was finally free, finally ready for my first taste of human blood.

A shudder of pleasure rushed through my spine but I forced it down, remember the code. The first law echoed inside my head _"don't get caught!" _no traces, no mistakes. Icy self-control in tact I approached my destination, a long—forgotten entrance to the chamber of secrets. I had great admiration for Salazar Slytherin, so many delightful secrets for a studious little Ravenclaw like me to uncover. Such a pity that his progeny so many generations down the line lack his subtlety, his flair.

A half-smile rose as I thought of my little disguise. Who would suspect a Ravenclaw? A mix of quiet intelligence, a modicum of wit, a dash of charm and charisma. Just enough to be liked, not enough to be memorable in any way. I was justifiably proud of my disguise, it had taken yeas to master it, but it was flawless. No-one would suspect me of being such a foul beast. I even had a girlfriend, as gloriously uninteresting as my little mask was. A lovely accessory, pretty, though spectacularly unaware of it, bookish to a fault, and above all else so very quiet and unassuming, so unlike the Gryffindor part she should be playing. If I was capable of feeling, I would be fond of my Hermione.

I was in the chamber and I slung down the pack I carried with me as I neared an alcove. It all had to be done by hand, magic would alert Hogwarts to the fate of one of its charges. Plastic sheeting decorated the walls, the floor, the ceiling; so perfectly neat and orderly. As I worked I mused on whom I was about to get so intimately acquainted with. Dear darling Draco so deeply dreaming now had been a very naughty boy. He'd been consorting with dark wizards for so long I knew it was only a matter of time before he would justify his lace on top of the list. He'd taken the Dark mark; I'd seen the proof in a Quidditch game not two days past. You always had to have proof that they deserved to die; the second rule of the code of Vernon. The dark mark demands a death, so my Dark Passenger demands Draco's.

I opened my tools and found my syringe, filled with chemicals to aid a sleepy Slytherin's slumber, and I crossed the floor to the other side of the Chamber. I was so very cxarefull with my planning, to enter the Slytherin House would usually require a password, which would have made my presence known (I'd had to use my broom to escape the Ravenclaw tower undetected), but no such fault existed with Slytherin's personal entrance: after all, he didn't tell anyone about it. I crept soundlessly down the corridor until I reached Malfoy junior's room, he had his own. I smirked; how very convenient. I tested the door, no privacy charms, a wonderful show of confidence on the death eaters path, so sure of his position in the House. I could hear my companion roar with laughter at the back of my mind.

The Need was getting worse now, I clamped down on a shivering hand. A lifetime of waiting coming to and end. The door opened without a creak and I crept into the room. Draco was sprawled across the bed: I couldn't resist. "Malfoy!" He blinked owlishly once, then twice, befor ehis face turned into the most comical expression of surprise and outrage "Potter! What the..." He drifted off as my syringe buried it's contents into his veins.

As I dragged the body back to the Chamber, I grinned, looking forward to the ritual to come, as my faithful watcher howled in exultation.

* * *

Hermione Granger sat quietly at the Ravenclaw table waiting patiently for Harry to arrive. At 815 exactly, he was a boy of almost compulsive habits, he wandered in. Seeing her he smiled, broadly, and kissed her exuberantly after sitting down next to her. He was acting in a manner so in contrast with his usually distant self she had a double-take wondering if I was really him. He chatted animatedly with people around, charming as always, and yet with a degree of enthusiasm she had never seen in him before. So enthralled was she in puzzling out the sudden change she almost missed Dumbledore's sobering news.

"It is with great regret that I must inform you that Draco Malfoy went missing as of last night. If anyone has any information as to where me might have gone to, please tell a member of staff who will report it directly to me." She had a thought, it was ludicrous really, it couldn't possibly be true, could it? She stared at her boyfriend, seeming so perfectly innocent and normal as he shared the gasps of surprise with the rest of the students. She would almost be reassured; were it not for his eyes. His eyes had always been strange, if beautiful in their own way. She would suppose that Poe put it best:

_"His eyes had all the seeing of a demon that is dreaming."_

_

* * *

A.N _I'm sorry to say this is most likely a one-shot as i cannot imagine a good story to go with the little plot bunny, but i had to write it having read the dexter morgan bookss by jeff lindsay. If i do think of something though i will definitely write it as i find the idea of potter as a serial killer too delicious to resist. thanks for reading and as always your reviews are craved.


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